


Just a Touch of Your Love

by rideswraptors



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Please Forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 02:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rideswraptors/pseuds/rideswraptors
Summary: Ginny would have loved to look anyone in the eye and honestly say that she hadn’t been doing it on purpose. Anyone. But it would have been a frigging lie.





	Just a Touch of Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> I have never even watched this show. But the fic is so smutty and good that I couldn't help myself.  
> I feel down a hole and had to claw my way out.  
> This is the result.

All things considered, Ginny Baker would have to say that her teammates were pretty good dudes. You know, as long as you weren’t counting the glaring personality flaws and over-inflated egos. But overall, they were protective of her, took good care of her on and off the field. She had their backs, so they had hers.

It was the same for everyone on the team, but Ginny hadn’t experienced it full force until after they played the Royals at home. They won 5-0, but tension between Baker and her favorite catcher was at an all-time high. She kept waving him off, he kept storming the mound. They were shouting at each other for half the game even though the rest of the team was doing just fine. Ginny would have _loved_ to look anyone in the eye and honestly say that she hadn’t been doing it on purpose. Anyone. But it would have been a frigging lie.

The truth was that she’d been goading Mike into snapping for weeks. She was sick of him avoiding her, sick of him skirting the issue, sick of him telling her that her career was more important. Standing on the mound, 60 feet away from him, that day…well, Ginny just lost it. They stood at opposite ends of the dugout, sniping at each other, sneering so hard that the others were jumping to get out of the way. Then Mike hit a homer. And since he was so smug, Ginny waved him off 3 times in a row. Then he threw his mitt down and stormed the mound. _Again_. They argued. Ginny (sort-of) agreed to follow his call. She didn’t, naturally, and struck the next 2 batters out. The umpire called it.

The Padres all but skipped their way into the clubhouse, cheering and jostling one another. Ginny stormed through them in a fury, Mike hot on her heels, shouting the house down. He was going through his usual lecture of trusting your teammate, respecting the dynamic, blah, blah, blah. Ginny, again, lost it.

“Well _maybe_! You stubborn son of bitch—!” She heard some low _ooohhhhhs_ from her teammates. Ginny never swore, especially not that loudly. She jabbed a finger in his direction for emphasis. “Maybe if your calls made any sort of goddamn _sense_ —!” Loud whispers coming from the background. _Go, go, seriously go_. Mike watching her dumbstruck, silent for the first time in the history of ever. Duarte once joked that he’d come out of the womb giving lofty speeches. “And maybe if you were _consistent_ —!”

“I a—!”

She cut him off viciously, “Nobody asked what you think, Mike! Because it’s so _obvious_ what you think, but you never do anything about it because you’re a damn coward!”

It was obvious even to her when he deflated that this conversation was veering far and away from pitcher-catcher conversation. The clubhouse dropped to deafening silence as their teammates had circled around them, blocking outside view. Mike’s chin dropped to his chest, hands on his hips, and Ginny realized she still had her glove on. Her hand was starting to cramp and sweat. Her chest was heaving from shouting, and a shiver shot down her spine when Mike looked back up at her again.

“You are the most stubborn, argumentative…” as he started talking, Ginny ditched her hat and her glove, eyes locked on his as he shook his head at her. “I’ve not been waved off so many times in my whole damn _career_. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?” They were taking slow steps toward each other.

“That’s your problem, you talk too much. So are you gonna keep talkin’ or are you gonna do something about it?”

It was a blur after that, but what Ginny remembered was that they clashed, she jumped, he caught, and they were making out furiously in front of their entire team. There was a ruckus, some cheering and jeering from their teammates, but Ginny quickly pulled Mike into her cubby where no one was allowed without her permission. For the first time, Mike didn’t badger her with a lecture, he just wrapped her up in his big arms and layered kiss after kiss on her lips. He cradled her head with his hand, handled her so carefully that Ginny was almost shocked. She’d expected rough and tough and impatient. She’d expected him to toss her around, take control, but he didn’t. It was soft, romantic, _addicting_.  When they resurfaced, the clubhouse and parking lot was pretty much empty. There was a pissy note from Oscar about ducking out of press duties. Mike chucked it and dragged Ginny back to his condo.

After fucking a few times before making it to the bedroom, they ordered food and curled up in his ridiculous oversized bed, in his stupidly soft sheets. Even if they were talking through the mushy, relationship stuff, they still bickered about the game, each maintaining their own side. That’s what Ginny loved about them, they could be like this, probably swear undying loyalty to each other, and in the same breath eviscerate each other’s game decisions. He was older, it was inappropriate, there were so many reasons it shouldn’t have happened or it shouldn’t have worked. Ginny didn’t care about any of them. Because they had 3 large pizzas between them and were fighting over the garlic sauce, and he threw a pepperoni at her face and laughed his ass off when it stuck. She retaliated by slapping a cheese slice onto his chest, only to collapse in laughter when he told her she had to clean that up. Mike reached out to get her back, but Ginny rolled and darted out of the room cackling. He wasn’t far behind, and without thinking, Ginny bolted for the back to door, took a few long strides and jumped into the pool. Just as she surfaced, Mike jumped in, sending a wave crashing over her. She laughed and accidentally swallowed some water, but she came back up smiling and witnessed Mike wiping away the last of the pizza sauce. He waded toward her.

“You, young lady, are in so much trouble.” Like a child, she splashed at him, which only deterred his progress for a second. “Javi doesn’t like people naked in his pool,” he muttered, grabbing for her waist. He was right, they were stark naked in his pool in the middle of the night. Not the best idea.

“Who’s Javi?” she asked blandly as he tugged her to him. Ginny barely heard his raspy _nobody,_ and then he was kissing her, sliding his hands up her arms to place them around his neck. She went easily, leaning into his embrace. Mike slid his hands back down her sides, lifting her thighs until she got the picture and wrapped them around his waist. He was wading them through the water, but Ginny was so fixated on his mouth that she startled when the stone wall bit against her bare skin. Mike chuckled in response to her gasp and ground his hips against hers.

“I think water sex is probably my new favorite thing,” he growled out against her skin. Ginny felt his fingers tighten on her legs and bolts of heat shot down her spine and legs. She buried her hands in his hair when he latched onto her neck.

“Easy on the knees, eh?” she chuckled, arching forward, thrilling at his hardness.

“Hmmm, means I’m taking my time, rookie. Means I’m keepin’ you here until you’re screaming for me.”

She snorted, “Or until I shrivel into a prune.” Mike pulled back, leveling his pupil-blown gaze at her, which, honestly, was doing things for her.

“That a challenge, Baker?”

She grinned brightly, wiggling against him, “Let’s see what you got, old man.”

Fuck appropriate.

*

Later, they learned that Blip and Livan faked a fight in front of Al and Oscar that held up the rest of the business side of the Padres, blocking their entry into the clubhouse. A few of the others had been cheering them on, saying some inflammatory shit in order to make it sound legitimate. They got fined for it, but they all seemed pretty proud of themselves.

After that, Ginny and Mike were attached at the hip far more than usual, enough to spark rumors on the talk shows. They had a particular shot of Mike’s hand resting just a little too low on Ginny’s back for too long and her bright smile up at him. The next day, Lopez and Singer streaked before the game, so nothing Ginny and Mike did or did not do that day made the headlines. If Buck had an idea what was going on, he didn’t say a word. The guys had done dumber things for lesser reasons. However, Amelia and Eliot didn’t catch on to what was happening until after the first away game when the team went out for drinks.

Now, Mike was handsy, sure, but he wasn’t into PDA, and Ginny knew full well where the line was for her. He tended to be mouthy instead of physically affectionate (which Ginny loved about him). But he sat much closer, an arm tossed around the back of her chair, and he kept physical distance between Ginny and…well, everyone else. The guys ribbed him a little, but Eliot stared at him liked he’d grown a second head when Mike used a hand to put distance between him and Ginny. Eliot was responsible for spinning Ginny’s life on social media, making her come across strong and triumphant. Nothing Lawson was doing was helping him spin _anything_. Still, it wasn’t until some guy wouldn’t leave Ginny alone at their table that they figured it out.

Ginny had been polite, said no, asked him to leave, nothing was working and she couldn’t afford a confrontation, especially not with so many cameras around. She caught Mike’s eye as he walked back from the bar with another round of drinks, flashing that smile she reserved for overeager fans. Unfortunately, she didn’t notice his reaction. Next thing she knew, Mike was looming over them, telling the guy to make himself scarce.

“You’re in my seat, asshole.”

He apparently didn’t agree with Mike, so Mike held out a hand to pull Ginny up next to him, implying they would leave if he didn’t. To be fair, Ginny wasn’t really thinking straight. She was turned on by Mike’s sudden proximity and that damn cologne he only wore every once in a blue moon, and he was being such an alpha pri—.

“Fuck off, I was talking to her!” the guy said jumping to his feet.

“And now you’re not, _get lost_.” They snapped lowly at each other, words Ginny couldn’t hear over the cloud of the music. And then Mike clocked the guy in the face with his elbow. Couldn’t afford to mess up those hands of his, of course. Eliot caught on immediately, brain working faster than his fingers, counting how many phones were out taking pictures, and went right to work spinning the story. Amelia was dumbfounded, standing next to a cackling Evelyn who’d had just a little too much to drink. Their teammates came in waves, some pulling Mike off, some sweeping Ginny away, and the others daring the other patrons to fight them. When Amelia got her shit together, she gathered some of them to sign autographs and some to buy people shots. Instead of “Bar Fight Mike” headlines running for the next week, pictures of the Padres with fans, buying people drinks, were all over Twitter and Instagram.

After that night, the major loser of Kangaroo Court had “Mike Duty” after away games for a week. It wasn’t a pleasant job. Mike glared at everyone who got too close to Ginny: men, women, paparazzi, innocent bystanders, it didn’t matter. Too close was too close. When asked, Mike honestly couldn’t remember being that way with Rachel, he’d just been unreasonably jealous. Ginny could have flirted with every guy in the place and he’d probably have been more concerned about what the douchebags took off her; pictures, jewelry, a signature or phone number. _Ginsanity_ was alive and thriving. Not that Ginny liked any of his answers, he seemed to be skirting some issue, avoiding some overall point she couldn’t figure out. He wasn’t even moody about it, just…embarrassed, maybe? If Blip was concerned about Mike’s behavior, he didn’t say much.

“Just…stop _hitting_ people.”

Mike would have been fine if he could have kept Ginny closer, if he could have showed even an ounce of possessiveness. But that was a no-go. Ginny wasn’t allowed to regulate him, or be near him for more than 10 minutes at a time because Amelia didn’t want it looking like Ginny was his keeper (because she was). Mike Duty entailed drink regulation, acting as a buffer between him and everyone else, and accompanying him home at the end of the evening, even if Ginny wasn’t with him, to keep suspicions down.

They were so worried about Mike losing it that they forgot about regulating Ginny.

Ginny was a very affectionate drunk. Extremely affectionate. And Mike was weak, not able to say no to her off the field to save his life at that point. She would drape her arms around his neck, nuzzle into him, initiate kisses in front of the most people possible. There was one night when they were all waiting for an Uber, and Ginny was plastered to Mike’s side. His arm was holding her up, but the others clustered around her to block any camera shots, making it look like a “team” thing. It would have been fine, plausible, until Ginny swung around and kissed Mike in full view. Which also might have been played off as goofiness, except that Mike was tipsy and wrapped his arms tight around her. There was a slight uproar until Sal and Omar panicked, shrugged, and started making out right next to them. Then there really _was_ an uproar, and Blip maneuvered Mike and Ginny away from the hubbub while their teammates took the spotlight.

It could have been a shitshow, but the team spun it as “brotherly affection” and that there really shouldn’t be so much homophobia in baseball. Several major and minor league players decided to come out and defend them, so Amelia and upper management were beyond pleased.

The team couldn’t have cared less about the publicity. They had a new mission. Who could do the most outrageous thing to protect Mike and Ginny’s relationship? It was a month by month competition. Whoever did the craziest thing would be guaranteed a favor of any sort from Mike, barring Ginny’s unwilling involvement. That was enough incentive for the lot of them to get ridiculous.

It was a high bar, outdoing a possible gay romance, but they came with their A game. One night, they started a dance fight in the street. They got creative and shot off bottle rockets at each other the next time. Another night, one of them proposed to a stranger. Another one carried a baby doll around for the week and refused to comment. The outfielders took to doing gymnastics in the outfield. Somebody started a fire, but no one would cop to it. They begged and cajoled and guilted Amelia to judging who behaved the most outrageously in defense of Ginny’s honor, to win Mike’s favor, and she only agreed because they said they’d get more ridiculous for no reason at all. She conceded, but Ginny thought she was resisting for show. Mike thought she was trying to ruin everybody’s fun. That had both Blip and Ginny rolling their eyes.

All in all, Ginny was highly entertained and very touched by their rambunctious, silly behavior. Mike and Ginny ended up covering some of their fines if it got too out of hand, but none of them seemed overly bothered about helping keep their relationship on the down low. In fact, they were rather glib about it. They had another side bet going, seeing who could get the closest to outing them without actually doing it. Duarte was obviously the best at it.

When asked after a game about the strange behavior and high energy comradery the Padres were exuding lately, he smirked.

“Well…I think it comes down to our pitcher-catcher dynamic. You know, Lawson and Baker, they’re tight. Tight as two people can be. It’s like they’re on the same wavelength, married…” The room held their breath as he took a natural pause and drank some water, “…To the job, you know?” he finished blandly. “She pitches. He catches.” Sal spat out his water. “Real gamers, the both of them, always pushing each other over,” he pounded his fist on the table, “and over,” he dropped his fist again, “and over.” Ginny thought she was going to lose it on camera. Blip _did_ lose it on camera. And Mike was plotting revenge. Duarte shrugged with a shit-eating grin on his face, “What can I say? When Mom and Pop are happy, the kids are happy, you know?”

No, they did not. No one did. It was a very confusing statement. Many people speculated on his meaning, but everyone decided it was just a ridiculous metaphor for the team and the pitcher just happened to be female. It was so on the nose, and because Ginny and Mike didn’t comment, there was no fuel for the fire. Naturally, the others ran with it, always referring to them as the Bawsons, saying they were married and needed to go work off their sexual tension. Surprisingly, it kept most people from speculating as to the nature of their actual relationship.

The next season, after the opener, Dusty and Posey were invited to an ESPN talk show after kicking ass. Ginny, with a lapful of Mike, who was sleepily reviewing film and using her as a body pillow, watched the pair of them play off each other. They answered relevant questions with grace and precision, but joked when anything got too personal or speculative. When asked about the Cubs’ chances, they both laughed and decided that Baker and Lawson were more likely to make out on the pitcher’s mound than the Cubs winning the Series.

Ginny snorted, “Idiots.”

Mike hummed in return, “Dunno, might have somethin’ there. Should lay one on ya next home game, get the Cubbies in.”

She tugged his beard playfully. “Be serious. They gotta stop.” It really was getting out of hand, even the anchors were joking that the two of them were married.

“I am being serious,” he said rolling over to look up at her. He knocked his head into her belly with a thoughtful look on his face that she wasn’t sure how to interpret. “We should.”

“Make out on the mound?” she asked incredulously.

He rolled his eyes, “Go public.” Ginny’s eyes bugged out and she turned the TV off altogether. She grabbed his iPad from him and set that aside too. When she lifted her hand to run it through her hair, Mike snatched it and held it between his bigger ones, playing with her fingers. From the beginning, Ginny hadn’t cared either way who knew they were together. She wanted to be discreet, but she didn’t _care_. Mike was the protective one. He wanted to keep this, theirs. He didn’t want anyone questioning her career or her abilities. He didn’t want her getting booted because of him. So, he’d put his foot down. The guys knowing was out of their hands, but beyond Ginny’s people, it was just between them. Oscar, Al, Buck, none of them knew. One word, and somebody was gonna hurt for it.

Ginny watched him intently, silently, as he kissed the center of her palm and traced the lines there.

“I think this is my last season,” he murmured.

“ _What_?”

He let out a noisy sigh, “Doc says my knees can’t take much more. I’ve gotta go easy this season, and even that means surgery. I want to play the game right, go out with a little dignity.”

“Your choice.”

“Something like that.”

“Livan doesn’t like prep,” she said blankly.

“You’ll teach ‘im.” He bobbled his head. “Or I will.”

“Who am I gonna fight with?”

“Me!” he snapped back incredulously, “Just not on the field, is all. Well,” he smirked, “maybe on the field.”

“Maybe?” she asked excitedly, poking him with her free hand and smiling so wide that her cheeks hurt. He tweaked her cheek. More accurately, her dimple, which he had a weird fixation on.

“Al and Buck say they wanna work something out.”

She jolted, “You told _them_ first?!?” Mike lolled his head, scowling.

“Just general future stuff, baby, nothing specific. You’re the first person I’m telling, promise.”

She settled for a second, running fingers through his beard as they watched each other. It was no small thing for him to suggest. It was no small endeavor. There would be protests, shit talk, nonsense across the board. It would be an adjustment, Mike in the dugout. Mike without baseball. Everyone would speculate on his next move, they would criticize any decision he made, and it would kill Ginny to watch it. But if he finally started taking better care of himself….and they could be out like a normal couple…as _normal_ as they could ever be…it could be worth it.

“It’s the right call,” he muttered.

“I know.”

“Can’t wave me off this one.”

“I know.”

“I’m not asking for permission.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He pulled her down for a quick kiss, since it was an awkward angle. “I’ll make it official when the season’s over. Til then, it’s just between me, you, and Oscar.”

“How romantic.”

“I love Oscar very much,” he answered blandly. This prompted a tickle fight which dislodged Mike from her lap. They wrestled and rolled until Mike used his body mass against her and pinned her to the mattress. Still, Ginny was smirking like she won, even with his hands tight on her wrists.

“Aren’t there rules?”

He chuckled, “Baby, we’ve been breaking those rules for a while now. Breaking them _a lot_.” But when she wrinkled her nose at him, he rolled his big shoulders, “I’ll sign a contract. Whatever. Work it out. Won’t have any say about pitchers and catchers. Amelia will eat it up.”

“No, she won’t,” she laughed, bucking her hips. “She’ll say it’s a PR nightmare.”

“That’s what they call me.”

“I know, that’s what I like about you. Gets me outta the spotlight for a second.”

He clicked his tongue with a rueful shake of his head, “Knew there was a reason you were banging me.” She struggled a little in protest.

“ _Gross_.”

“What?” he laughed. “Banging? Are you ashamed of _banging_ me, rookie?” His eyes were twinkling down at her as she giggled at his nonsense, still trying to get her hands free. Big dork.

“ _Noooo_ you’re the worst! Stop!” He kept saying it between kisses though, until he was so fixated on kissing her that he released her hands. Those hands immediately went to his ears, her favorite spot to clutch on his face. She deepened the kiss, eagerly pushing up against him to spur him on.

“Nuh-uh, baby, you love it,” he muttered against her lips. He sucked in her bottom lip, nipping and soothing. She smiled into it, fingers tightening in his hair. One hand went to her breast and he dragged the other down to her thigh, squeezing and coaxing her open. She moaned at the friction provided.

“ _Yeah_ , I kinda do.”

They kissed lazily, gently with no hurry, content with proximity.

“Marry me,” he whispered, moving to her cheek and jaw. She didn’t really process what he’d said, especially since he moved to that lovely spot on her neck.

“What?” she asked breathily, squirming against his onslaught.

“Marry me. Yesterday. Today. 10 years from now. Just say yes.” He punctuated his words with rocks of his hips into hers. Then he latched his mouth onto hers, not giving her a chance to answer or interrogate him. He distracted her long enough for the shock to wear off, for her to process. Then she tore her mouth away.

“Are you insane?” she demanded as he moved down the column of her throat, paying lavish attention to her chest. “You’re going to give Amelia an aneurysm.”

He pulled up with a glint in his eye, “So everyone wins?” That earned him a half-hearted swat at his chest. “What? You want me to be _nice_ now?” Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed. “Right,” he sat back on his ankles, knees creaking, “Pushing it.” She winced at the sound of his knees and reached out to massage them. A useless enterprise, but a nice gesture nonetheless.

“Look,” Mike started again, “we basically live in each other’s pockets. Your apartment is just a crash pad for the guys these days. I’m not going anywhere. You’re it for me. I get if you think you’re too young or you want to see more of what’s out there, we can sign a—” He was caught off guard by Ginny heaving herself up to get a good angle to stop his tirade with a kiss.

“We don’t need a pre-nup.”

“Amelia…”

“Can kiss my ass.” She was up on her knees now too, arms draped over his shoulders. His reactively went around her waist. “I’ve been sneakily moving in for months now.” His head tilted in thought.

“Really?”

“Your guest room is my closet.” Leggings _everywhere_ , he thought as quietly as possible. Not that he didn’t absolutely love those leggings.

“Huh,” he shook his head. “What about the other stuff?” The insecurity there was obvious. Plenty of people would speculate about them once this was public. They would wonder if she was being influenced or if she was just trying to get popular on social media, keep her name in circulation. They’d call it a publicity stunt. A _gimmick_. She ran her fingers through his hair reassuringly, but went another direction.

“Well the guys have been begging me to let them take girls back to my place…could charge ‘em rent for the furniture?” she teased. When he didn’t react besides lifting his brows, she knew he was serious, so she brought a hand down to stroke his beard.

“Can’t predict the future, but I’m all-in Lawson.”

“All-in?”

“All-in, no waving me off.”

“Not a chance.”

She snickered, “And here I thought I was going to get a speech about sowing my wild oats, getting out there, and _banging_ my way across America.” With a growl, he tightened his arms around her and pinned her back to the mattress, trapping her there.

“Not a goddamn chance.”

“Jealous—” he cut her off with a deep kiss, dropping his weight on her. “Possessive—” she broke off with a moan as he lifted a thigh between her legs. “Mean-spirited.”

“Say yes.” She lurched up to kiss him more thoroughly, wrapping arms and legs around him, which he settled into easily. “Not hearing yo-u….” Her only response was a groan. He ripped his mouth away to bite at her chin and up her jawline. “Come on, baby, say yes. I’ll give you anything you want. Everything.” Ginny just hummed and brought his mouth back to hers, planting sharp kisses on his lips.

“You,” she whispered, “Just you.”

Mike’s responding growl rumbled in his chest, “ _Say it_.”  And good freaking _god_ did that mouthy, demanding tone do things for her. He knew it, too.

She cupped his face, looking him square in the eye, “Yes, Mike Lawson, I’ll marry you.” Ginny had to wonder if he even attempted to control the smile on his face. He held her gaze for a moment longer, eyes bright like the day she’d rented that boat and took him out on the bay. Content, relaxed, absolutely blissful. She loved that look, loved when he didn’t control his facial expressions, loved when she could trace his laugh lines. That had been a good day, too. Off-season, no reporters hounding them, no managers trying to manage them, no teammates interrupting them. Just the two of them in open water.

But before she could get his mouth back on her, or somewhere better, Mike was darting from the bedroom. He bounded back in, threw himself on the bed and rolled with a surprising amount of agility for someone his size. Ginny let out a shriek of laughter at his rowdiness until he slid behind her so that his thighs bracketed her own. He wrapped one arm around her middle, dropped his chin to her shoulder, and held up a white velvet box. Ginny tried to turn to look at him.

“Mike…”

“Open it.” With unsteady hands, she did as he said, taking it from his hands. Inside was couched a perfect 28” inch strand of whispery gold links.

“A chain?” It was beautiful, but not exactly what she was expecting. She felt his chuckle before she heard it, and then his hand came back into view, pinching what was probably the most perfect ring in existence. It was a dark blue sapphire, flanked by two square cut diamonds on a gold band. Mike took the box from her to give her the ring.

“I figured…” he started, sweeping her hair to the side and kissing the swell of her neck, “If you were going to wear a ring, it had to be subtle.” He let out a laugh through his nose that teased the nape of her neck. “I don’t really do subtle.” Looking at the ring, no he did not. It must have cost him a fortune, and that was not something she really wanted to think about.

“Mike, this thing has to be at least 3 carats…”

“Five, actually,” he muttered, “I was under the impression if it was any bigger, I’d never get you to wear it at all.” He plucked it from her fingers, strung it onto the gold chain, and laid it on her chest to secure the clasp. “I landed on a compromise. Flashy ring that you can wear on a chain. Doesn’t mess up your pitch with the added benefit of keeping it to ourselves for a while.”

Ginny did turn around at that. Turned around so fast and launched herself at him so hard that she tackled him. She made up for knocking the wind out of him by peppering kisses on his face. His belly laugh had her smiling.

“Like the ring that much, huh?”

She snorted, “Fuck the ring. You could’ve given me a paperclip and I would have been _ecstatic_.”

“Low bar, there, rook,” he rumbled, stroking her back as she settled in to kiss his jaw and neck. She hummed in the negative and rolled her hips down against him.

“Mmm, I’d say it’s all that good foundation you’ve been laying. High quality stuff, Captain.” Mike sunk a hand into her hair to jerk her head to bring their mouths together. It was open and messy and good.

Then he used her hair to pull them apart, “You’ll wear it then?” he asked breathlessly, looking absolutely wrecked. Ginny smirked and rolled off of him to contemplate the ring. He followed, using her stomach as a pillow. She took a moment to admire the glean and the shine. To her it looked perfect, not that she knew anything about gemstones. She slid it onto her finger, surprised that it was a perfect fit. That boy, Ginny glanced down to see him grinning smugly. Thought of everything, he did. Deftly she undid the chain, slid it out of the ring and set it on the nightstand. She left the ring in place and waggled it in his direction.

“I’ll wear it here. Out there, I’ll keep it on the chain.”

“Really?” Ginny looked down at him before following her gaze with her body. She curled up against his side, holding up her left hand for them both to examine. He held it, tracing her fingers with his thumb, and she nuzzled her cheek into his chest. She loved the contrast in their skin, loved that her dark sepia brought out the shine of the gold band. Loved that he’d chosen their team colors without making it obvious.

“We’re getting married,” she whispered, a little in awe of their hands together.

“Hell yeah, we are.” Ginny felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Should we call people?” she asked reluctantly. Underneath her, she felt him shift and rumble a bit.

“I’m pleading the fifth until you tell me what you want—”

“We elope tomorrow and tell no one ever?” Ginny was nearly dislodged from the force of his laughter. If he’d thought for a second that she was serious, he’d book tickets to Aruba in a heartbeat and no one would hear from them for a week. But Ginny liked people. She liked to dance. And she’d already been denied so many normal experiences in her life that Mike wouldn’t even consider axing another one, even if he really, really wanted to.

“We could call your mom?”

“Can’t keep a secret.”

“Blip and Ev?”

“I kinda…” she lifted her head to look at him with a shy smile, and his eyes were so soft and happy that she bit her lip. Her affection didn’t dim when his lips lifted in a smirk and his arm reached around to her ass, squeezing, pulling her against him. Ginny hummed her approval, arching into him. “I like just us,” she purred contentedly.

Mike responded in kind, waggling his brows, and urging her up for a kiss. He’d once told her how obsesses he was with kissing her, how he thought about it every time they argued on the field, when she leaned up against a wall in the dugout, when she stretched in the clubhouse. She thought about it when he winked at her from behind home plate, when he was giving one of his speeches, when he was warming up for batting practice. The clubhouse was a mutual fantasy that they were keeping in their back pockets for a rainy day. Mike had also mentioned something about the dugout, and Ginny had obviously made the mistake of sharing her pitching mound fantasy with Posey. A glaring lapse in judgement, and—oh shit, she loved it when he did that. They were wearing too many clothes. Ginny straightened, straddled him, and tossed her top in one smooth movement. She swiveled her hips when his hands latched onto her breasts.

“Just us,” he murmured, gaze fixed on her face. “I like that.” Ginny smirked and leaned down to whisper in his ear, breasts grazing him.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, old man. Get naked.”

“Yes, _ma’am_.”

*

They won the Series. A week later Mike announced his retirement and upcoming surgery with Ginny by his side. A second before anyone could adjust to the news, he also announced their engagement. Just like she’d wanted, they hadn’t told anyone. Not the guys, not management, not Amelia. Ginny’s family didn’t even know. The next 30 minutes was a shitstorm of questions mostly directed at Ginny and their management because that’s how the press worked. So, Mike did what he did and went into protective mode. He jerked the microphone to his side and leaned in.

“Baker and I have been in a romantic relationship for the past two seasons. It obviously didn’t impact our game because we just won the damn _World Series._ ” Their teammates, excited by the second announcement, chuckled a little at Mike’s snark. “She’s been nothing but calm and poised and focused. Like she always is. We didn’t disclose our relationship because for me, the game has always come first. For the past two years, Ginny has come first, and she loves the game just as much as I do. We’ve been engaged since the start of this season, and we chose to keep it to ourselves for the same reason. Now you can sit here and examine everything she’s said and done for the past two years, dig up your dirt or whatever, but it doesn’t change the fact that our teammates did a hell of a job distracting you vultures.” There was an uproar of cheers and whistles from the guys, and Ginny was doing her best not to melt into a puddle of embarrassment. She bit her lip and hid her face in Mike’s shoulder. His arm automatically went around her.

A very flustered PR rep called on a polite-looking journalist in the front, who directed his question to Ginny.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

There was an uncomfortable wave of surprise through the crowd, and his presumption sparked a fire of indignance in Ginny. Mike smirked, hiding his face this time, to keep from laughing outright. Ginny jerked the microphone.

“It don’t matter, cause you ain’t invited. Next question.” 

*

“Gin and I’d like to thank you all for being here today. Even though it was a destination wedding. In January. On a Wednesday. Apparently, you all can’t take a hint!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
